


Not For Sale

by BeveStuscemi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 23:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11588346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeveStuscemi/pseuds/BeveStuscemi
Summary: After regaining consciousness in the cabin by the dock, Leon realises that he's in desperate need of medication and ammunition, and seeks out the Merchant. However, there are some things the Merchant doesn't sell and Leon learns an important lesson; you don't bite the hand that supplies you with weaponry.





	Not For Sale

Half-dead and delirious in pain, Leon staggered out of the small cabin, clutching his side. It was night now, and the rain was coming down heavy onto the cabin’s shingled roof and the sound of the pounding rain intensified Leon’s headache. He rummaged through his pockets, looking for any herbs, sprays or medication that might tide him over until he found Ashley but to his dismay, everything was either empty or soaking wet from his encounter with the lake monster. Cursing his poor luck, Leon leaned against the cabin’s wall to shelter himself from the storm and began to inspect his weapons. His handgun and shotgun seemed to be in working order but the scope of his rifle had been damaged in the fight with the monster. The scope was already dirty but there was now a few fractures in the eyepiece lens, making it more difficult to see clearly even without a filthy headache.

A flash of lightening briefly illuminated the lake surrounding the cabin and Leon stumbled towards the fishing boat by the makeshift wooden dock. As he climbed in, he noticed that the monster had done some considerable damage to the exterior of the boat, which was now slightly dented and less streamlined. He sat in the boat for a minute, trying to count his remaining bullets amidst a constant thumping in the front of his head.  
“Shit.” He murmured to himself. He counted ten handgun bullets, four shotgun shells and he was completely out of rifle ammunition. “I’m gonna die at this rate…”  
He lay back in the boat for a moment, trying to focus on the mission objectives to ignore the pain consuming his body.  
“ _Find Ashley. Go to the rendezvous point. Get picked up. Find Ashley…_ ” The pain in his side inflamed his torso as he tried to get back up. Gripping the sides of the boat, he steadied himself onto the back seat of the boat.  
“New mission objectives,” Leon grasped the tiller of the boat’s engine and began to lift it up. “Get medication and get more bullets.”

Thunder rumbled throughout the cloudy sky and a second bolt of lightning revealed a crevice in the cave alongside the lake. The crevice looked as though it was manmade, given the wooden beams surrounding the entrance and the two torches on either side. The blue flame flickered in the wind but still managed to stay alight as if it was beckoning Leon to enter. With the threat of being knocked out of the boat eliminated, Leon ignored the remaining harpoons in the boat and began to steer the boat in the direction of the cave. The choppy waters accompanied by the heavy rain left a bitter, salty taste in Leon’s mouth and he realised just how thirsty he was. Lifting the tiller up further, the boat began to accelerate and Leon closed the distance between himself and the cave. The cave entrance provided a cover from the worsening storm outside and it was almost a relief when Leon passed the blue flames of the entrance as the humid temperature and constant spray of water was doing little to help his aching head. He was also grateful that the cave was very poorly lit but the moonlight from the lakeshore provided enough lighting as the black rocks glistened in the light, creating a soft, white glow. The cave tunnel was thankfully very straight, so Leon didn’t need to worry about crashing into the sides of the rock and falling back into the water so he continued to accelerate down the tunnel.

The tunnel eventually became wider and led to the end of the cave. There was no more exits or entrances and the cave had become a small lake, though there was no shore. Instead of a shore was a dock, much larger than the previous one near the cabin. The dock was held above the lake by hardwood decking and poles, presumably made from the trees by the village. On top of the decking was a shack made from the same material. It was crudely constructed with mismatching pieces of wood and beams of different lengths and age, signified by the amount of wet rot on them. The top of the shack was full of barrels and boxes, though it was difficult to see due to the roped fencing surrounding the roof. Leon pulled the tiller downwards and the propeller began to slow before finally stopping next to the dock. Slowly, Leon swung his legs over the boat to minimise the pain searing in his side and climbed the small staircase leading to the shack. More crates, wood barrels and sacks were strewn around the open door to the shack and a torn, beige canopy hung over the door, as if the owner had made a half-bothered effort to make the place look inviting.

Getting closer to the opening and trying not to trip on the loose pieces of board he was walking on, Leon realised that the owner was the Merchant. Really, Leon should have realised that this was the Merchant’s hideout, given the two large blue flames out on the lake and the third flame on the dock but Leon blamed his lack of memory on his pain. The Merchant stood behind a long, wood counter which displayed a variety of different ammunition, all grouped and stacked on top of each other. A khaki lock box was draped with some bandoliers, to the side of Leon, near the shack entrance there were various rifles, shotguns and grenades on display, ordered depending on size and type of grenade. An archway hung over the Merchant’s counter and pamphlets and posters on guns and other weaponry were stuck onto it with steel nails. There was even more behind the Merchant. Two sniper rifles, both with intact scopes were mounted on the wall behind him. They were both black in colour, one decorated with silver markings, the second with brown and both made Leon’s bolt action rifle look pathetic in comparison.

Leon staggered towards the Merchant, nearly collapsing onto the counter and still clutching his side.  
“Welcome, stranger!” The Merchant’s usual raspy greeting gave an indication that he was unaffected by the fact that Leon was practically dying on his store counter. Leon looked up at him, in a mixture of pain and desperation.  
“First aid spray.” There was no need for manners, not when you feel like you’re about to pass out from agony.  
The Merchant turned around and opened a black box containing a dozen health sprays. He picked one out and handed it over the counter to Leon. Leon quickly removed the cap of the tin and began to spray the areas in pain. Spraying his torso and head, the pain quickly began to recede and was replaced by a slight numbing sensation which would normally leave as quickly as it came.  
“That’s five thousand pesetas, stranger.”  
Leon gave a sarcastic chuckle. For a split second he thought the spray might have been on the house, given that Leon was his sole customer but apparently not. Leon handed over the money and the Merchant placed it in a small box next to him. Leon wondered what he needed the money for but decided not to ask.  
“Anything else, stranger?” The Merchant’s raspy voice was somewhat muffled under his purple scarf surrounding the lower portion of his head.  
“Yeah,” Leon began, straightening up now that the pain in his body had gone. “I need a scope.” He retrieved the damaged scope and handed it over to the Merchant who examined it. The Merchant hummed as he looked through the eyepiece and tutted at the damage.  
“I’ll buy it back at a low price, stranger.” He looked at the scope once more. “I’ll give you five hundred pesetas.”  
“Done.” Leon watched as the Merchant opened his money box again and counted the money before placing it in Leon’s outstretched hand. The Merchant then turned his back to Leon and crouched, pulling forward a large crate.  
“I’ve had a new supply of scopes come through recently, stranger.” He began, opening the lock on the crate with a small key. “It’s now a case of remembering where I put them.”  
“A new supply, huh?” Leon shoved his thumbs into the waist of his trousers. “Any reason why?”  
The Merchant gave a hoarse laugh. “For business o’ course!”  
Leon looked around the shack, unconvinced. “You don’t look very busy. Seems to me like your goods outnumber your customers.”  
The Merchant looked over his shoulder and despite having his mouth covered, Leon could tell he was smiling. “You’d be surprised, stranger.”  
“Oh, yeah?” Leon leaned on the counter, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Anyone in particular?”  
“Ahhh, that would be telling, stranger.” The Merchant returned to the crate and closed the lid before locking it with the small metal key. “The scopes aren’t in there, stranger. I’ll have a look in one of the shelves.”

The Merchant moved out of Leon’s vision but he could still hear him rummaging behind the counter, moving boxes and other goods. Leon turned his attention to the boxes of ammunition stacked on the display counter.  
“Hey, how much you charge for ammo?” Leon craned his neck over the counter and saw the Merchant looking through another box and rifling through it with his gloved hands.  
“Not for sale, stranger.”  
“What?” Leon shot him a confused look. “Why do you have so much ammo if you’re not selling it?”  
“Give a box with any gun I sell. Can’t sell guns if I’m all outta ammo can I, stranger?”  
Leon sighed, half furious. “Look, I’ll cut you a deal. Six thousand pesetas for three boxes of pistol ammo, three boxes of shotgun bullets and two boxes of rifle ammo. It’s more than fair.”  
“Heh. No deal, stranger. If you want ammo, buy a gun.”  
Leon squinted at the sniper rifles behind the counter. Both had prices written on black board with white chalk and both cost well over what Leon had to offer.  
“I can’t afford a new gun!” Leon considered selling the guns he already had, but thought three guns for one sniper rifle was not a good trade.  
“Then no deal, stranger.” The Merchant stated, as though the whole conversation bored him.  
Leon banged his fist on the counter and the Merchant faced him with a bemused expression on his face.  
“Listen,” Leon hissed through gritted teeth. “I’ve been sent over here to rescue the president’s daughter, her name’s Ashley Graham.” The Merchant continued to watch Leon from the corner of the shack, hands still holding the box. “I need bullets for my guns otherwise I won’t be able to rescue her. Do you understand how important this it?”  
“Oh yes, stranger.” The Merchant nodded. “But I’m still not selling you my ammo.”  
He returned to the box and ignored Leon’s argument, resulting in Leon becoming increasingly agitated and annoyed.  
“ _Fuck it!”_ Leon thought, his eyes burning into the Merchant’s beige rucksack as he continued to search for the scope.

Slowly and as quietly as he could, Leon placed his attaché case on the floor, pretending to cough to mask the sound of the metal locks clicking as he opened it. Looking over the counter, ensuring that the Merchant was still looking through the various boxes, Leon grabbed a couple of boxes of ammunition from each pile and placed them in his case. He had three boxes of ammo for each gun and figured it would keep him alive until he found some more scattered around the area.  
“So,” Leon kept his voice as calm as possible as he closed the case. “You seen any girls around here?”  
The Merchant gave his signature choking laugh. “Can’t say I have, stranger.” There was a pause, followed by a “Ahh!”  
The Merchant returned to the counter, holding a new scope in his hand. It was the same, long sight scope Leon had previously used, only this one wasn’t filthy with a fractured eyepiece.  
“That’s seven thousand pesetas.”  
Leon shoved his hand into his front pocket and began to count out the amount of coins he needed. He dropped fourteen gold coins into the Merchant’s hand, which the Merchant placed in his money box again.    
“Thanks.” Leon gave a forced smile whilst holding the scope. He decided it was best to put it away when he was away from the Merchant.  
“Is that all, stranger?” He enquired hands on the counter and fingers spaced out.  
“Yeah, I’m gonna get going now.” Leon gestured towards the boat, still next to the small dock and began to head in that direction. The Merchant tilted his head slightly and tapped his finger on the counter.  
“Are you _sure_ that’s all, stranger?”  
Leon stopped in his tracks and his heart began to beat a little faster. He slowly turned back around and found himself staring at the barrel of a shotgun. Leon’s mouth twitched as he tried to think of an escape route. He could try and kick the gun but there was still some distance between him and the Merchant and the likelihood was he’d be blasted in the gut before he’d have the chance to knock the gun out of the Merchant’s hands. Fighting the Merchant was too risky and he was no use to Ashley dead.

Adrenaline pumped through Leon’s legs but he fought the instinctive fight-or-flight response to stand facing the Merchant and his shotgun. Leon exhaled heavily and gripped his case tighter. The Merchant took a step closer, until there was no distance between himself and the display counter and so the shotgun barrel was inches closer to Leon’s face. Candlelight flickered in the Merchant’s pale blue eyes and cast shadows over his scarred skin and Leon recoiled slightly as the man looked more evil than any Ganado he had encountered thus far.  
“Anything you took from the counter, put back now.”  
With his squinted eyes and seething voice, Leon knew that it would be wise to follow any order given to him unless he wanted his head completely exploded. He placed the case onto the counter, flicking the small locks upward and opening the top portion of the case, exposing the stolen boxes of ammunition. Leon glared at the Merchant who remained unmoved, still holding the shotgun in his gloved hands and glaring back at Leon. Cursing under his breath, Leon began to remove the ammunition from his case and put it back in its respective pile, slamming each box on the counter so the Merchant could see.  
“The other ammunition was already mine.” Leon said plainly, pointing at the remaining bullets and ammo boxes.  
The Merchant withdrew his shotgun but never took his eyes off Leon. The shotgun was placed underneath the counter and his hands sunk deep into his coat pockets. Leon, half expecting the Merchant to pull something out, took a few steps back but the Merchant kept his hands deep inside his coat and the hostile expression on his face relaxed.

The two men stared at each other, Leon with mistrust and apprehension and the Merchant with the same mysterious expression he first dealt Leon by that Godforsaken house. After the tension subsided, Leon placed the new scope in his case and closed it, still giving the Merchant full eye contact just to make sure he didn’t pull out another weapon. Running his free hand through his blonde hair to regain composure, Leon nodded at the Merchant.  
“I’ll go now.”  
Leon backed out of the small shack, refusing to break eye contact and the Merchant’s eyes crinkled.  
“Come back anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Merchant was the true hero of Resident Evil 4.


End file.
